


Road Rage

by stellarmeadow



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Banter, Fluff, carguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pure indulgence. Just Steve, Danny, a car and...discussion. Steve and Danny style. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks and shout out to all the wonderful twitter peeps who gave me suggestions for things they might discuss!

_...and if you're sitting on the H1 right now, we hope you filled up your tank, because you're gonna be there a while. The accident involving six cars--_

Steve switched off the radio, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. 

"Why'd you turn it off?" Danny asked.

"Because I didn't need him telling me how bad the traffic was when I was sitting in it. "

"He might've given us useful information on how to not be sitting in it, Steven."

Steve tapped a little harder on the steering wheel. "He said we would be here a while, Danny. So I don't think he was about to offer us way out."

"You don't know that," Danny said. "He might've been about to tell us how to get an airlift." Danny's eyes narrowed as he leaned in towards Steve. "No, Steven, you are not calling for an airlift."

"I'm just saying," Steve said, "I have friends--"

"No. Just no."

***

"Are we seriously even discussing this, Danny?"

Danny pulled an exaggerated face at Steve. "Yes, Steven, yes, we are. Because you have to understand there are boundaries. And those boundaries exist for a reason."

"Really? Boundaries?"

"Yes. Boundaries."

Steve couldn't quite contain his amusement. "Boundaries around hairbrushes?"

"Yes!" Danny managed to 'humph' with his whole body. "When you have hair as delicate--"

"Delicate?" Steve said

"as mine," Danny continued loudly, with a pointed look, "you cannot have your bristles mangled by people with Brillo hair cropped half an inch from their head."

Steve blinked at him. "Brillo?"

"You know, those pads that people use to clean--"

"Yes, Danny, I know what you mean," Steve said, folding his arms over his chest. "And, by the way--"

"Hey, they moved six inches," Danny said, pointing at the car in front of them. "Do you want someone to get in front of us?"

Steve pulled up, shooting confused looks at Danny for a few seconds. 

"What?" Danny said finally.

"You just said I was not following the car in front of me close enough."

"I never said that."

"You pretty much did."

"Shut up and pay attention to the road."

***

"What difference does it make?" Danny asked, sounding personally offended.

"What difference?" Steve turned to him, wide eyed. "Are you serious?"

"As serious as someone can get about toothpaste, Steven, yes."

"It's about efficiency, Danny. If you squeeze it in the middle, then eventually you've got half of what's left at one end of the tube and half of what's left at the other, and a squished tube in the middle."

Danny stared at him. "I can see that you've thought about this a lot."

"No, I haven't, because there's nothing to think about. If you start at the end and roll it down as you go, you get a full tube at the right end and you maximize the amount of paste you get--"

"Maximize the amount of paste?" Danny asked, as if Steve had just said you should brush your teeth standing on your head. "Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth sometimes?"

"I hear mine a lot more than you hear yours."

"Shut up before I open a whole tube of toothpaste on your head."

***

_...fire and rescue have reached the accident, but it's going to take some time to get the lanes cleared. Might want to turn off your engines before--_

"Again with the turning off the news about the traffic?" Danny said. "Really?"

"What's he going to tell us that we don't already know?" Steve asked. "The cars in front of us aren't moving anytime soon, the shoulder is too narrow for us to go down--we're stuck. There. There's your traffic report."

Danny stared at him for a moment. "When we get out of here, you are banned from driving my car for a week."

"Yeah, right."

"No, really, not one time do you get behind that steering wheel."

"Sure."

"It'll be great," Danny said, as if Steve hadn't spoken. "For one, I won't have to adjust the seat every time I get into my car."

"Danny--"

"Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it is to move that thing up? No, because every time you get in you just shove it back like it's not going to break one day or something with that kind of force. But then I get in and I have to inch it back up, and it's--"

"--it's not my fault that your legs are so short?"

"Two weeks."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Danny, really--"

"Two weeks, Steven. No driving the car for two weeks."

"Danny--"

"No, you know what?" Danny said, arms waving, "not only that, you are banned from riding in my car. You can take your truck. It'll be fabulous not to have to vacuum out the sand you seem to somehow shed like you're made of it when you get in my car."

"Sand? It's Hawaii. Everything has sand."

"Yes, but you, my friend, are a sand magnet, until you get into my car, and then you demagnetize and leave all your sand in my seat, you...you...sand monster."

Steve blinked at him. "I'm sorry, am I a sand magnet or a sand monster?"

Danny raised his eyebrows. "Three weeks."

"Okay," Steve said, hands up, "I'm sorry that I don't put the seat up, okay? I will try to remember from now on. Okay?"

Danny considered that for a moment. "Thank you," he said with exaggerated politeness. "That would make me happy."

"That would be a first."

***

 

"Over, Danny. The only right answer is over."

"Must you be right about _everything_ , Steven?"

"I'm just saying, if you put the toilet paper on so it rolls under, you can't grasp it as easily. And it tends to roll down onto the floor. If you put it over, then it stays put, and you can easily pull it down as needed."

" _That_ is your opinion, Steven."

" _That_ is physics, Daniel."

"Oh, great, now we have Steve the Science Guy again. If you're such a great scientist, why don't you make a rocket for this car and get us out of here?"

"Because I'm too busy developing a mute button for your mouth."

"Bite me."

"Don't tempt me."

***

"I'm just saying, Danny, the FBI had a private plane, but no sat phone?"

Danny shrugged. "Maybe they didn't think they'd need them?"

"It's an FBI private plane. What if they crashed?"

"Then they'd have bigger problems?"

"Problems which would be alleviated with a sat phone," Steve said. "It's SOP to have a sat phone on a government plane."

Danny studied Steve for a moment. "You're lying."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are--my point is," Danny said loudly, "it is entirely possible they just didn't have one on them."

Steve nodded. "Okay, let's say we go with that. What's the reasoning for leaving their only mode of transportation unattended when they know people are trying to stop them from leaving?"

"They were going inside to assess the situation."

"Assess the situation?" Steve said. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Without protecting their transport? SOP dictates--"

"You SOP me one more time and I'm going to POW you right in the face."

***

"That is not how you pronounce it!" Steve said.

Danny stared, mouth half open from where he'd been mid-sentence. "Excuse me?"

"You're saying it wrong."

"Okay," Danny said after a second, "I'm pronouncing it the way I always do."

"Yes," Steve said, "and you always do it wrong."

"You've never said anything before."

Steve shrugged. "I reached my level of tolerance."

"I didn't know you have one."

Steve sighed. "It's gif, Danny, with a hard 'g'."

"Says who?"

"Says the words that it stands for - Graphics Interchange Format. Graphics. With a hard 'g' - hence 'gif' and not 'jif.'"

Danny huffed. "Well fine, if you're going to let me go around mispronouncing things then maybe I'll just stop talking."

"Really? That's all I had to do? Why didn't you tell me that years ago?"

"Shut up."

"I thought that was what you were doing."

"Bite me."

"We stay in this car long enough and I might do that out of hunger."

***

_Tow trucks are having trouble getting to the scene of the accident, so if you're blocking the shoulder, get out of the way so we can all get home before tomorrow. The accident--_

"I don't know why you even bothered turning it back on," Steve said.

"Because I was hoping for some glimmer of hope that I might escape the hell this car has become," Danny muttered. "Or at least the news that they were doing air drops of food."

"A sandwich would be nice," Steve said.

"Yeah, like a nice hot dog with mustard and--"

"A hot dog is not a sandwich, Danny."

Danny stared at him for a second. "A sandwich is meat between bread, yes?"

"It can be."

"So is a hot dog. Ergo, a sandwich."

Steve's jaw muscle twitched. "You do realize that using the word 'ergo' does not, in fact, mean that your argument is valid, right?"

"No, but pointing out that something does, in fact, meet the very definition of the word I said it was? That does make my argument valid."

Steve drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I suppose next you'll say that white chocolate is the same thing as chocolate."

"Why not?"

"I cannot believe that you ever accused me of being a Neanderthal."

"I didn't accuse," Danny said. "I just pointed out that you do, in fact, literally meet the very definition of the word."

"Really?" Steve asked. "I literally have been extinct for forty thousand years? Really?"

Danny shrugged. "Okay, maybe it's more figuratively, but still, you have to admit, you're kind of Captain Caveman."

"I will kick you out of this car."

"It's my car, Steven."

"You think you can stop me?"

"Yes."

"Oh?" Steve said. "Are you an expert in close quarters combat?"

Danny shook his head. "I don't need to be," he said. "I had sisters."

Steve blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Four words: twelve hour road trips."

"What does that mean?"

"Try fighting me in a car and find out," Danny said. 

***

"I'm not saying it's your fault," Danny said. "But it's your fault."

"I thought you just said you weren't saying that."

"I'm not. It's just fact."

Steve blinked at him. "What? How?"

"Because Grace never wanted a tattoo before. And now that she knows you, she does."

"Okay, a, Grace wasn't at the age where she would want one before she met me. And b, she lives in Hawaii. Getting tattoos here is like getting your ears pierced on the mainland. Everyone does it."

"Not my little girl, Steven. And if you didn't have those huge tattoos on your arms and she didn't have her whole little hero worship thing for Uncle Steve going on, she wouldn't--what is that look?"

"Nothing," Steve said, trying to school his features and failing. "Does Grace really hero worship me?"

Danny sighed. "A week from now I'm going to look back on this moment and think, 'I've created a monster,' aren't I?"

***

"You should do it," Steve said. 

Danny looked out the window. "You think?" he asked, after a moment, looking back over at Steve. "I mean, it seems very Neanderthal--"

"Oh, well, then, you know I'm in favor," Steve cut in wryly.

"but," Danny continued as if Steve hadn't spoken, "at the same time, he's my kid. Every time I went into that room at the hospital and it said 'Charlie Edwards' on the door it was a little like finding out all over again that she kept him from me for years."

"Which is why you should make her change it to Williams." Steve tapped Danny on the arm. "He's your kid, Danny. He deserves your name."

Danny sighed. "Yeah," he said softly, after a few seconds. "Maybe he does."

***

_And the crews have managed to clear up one lane and a shoulder, so traffic is slowly getting by on the right side. Fire up those engines, all you folks on the H1, you may be getting out of there after all!_

Danny turned off the radio and stretched, working his head from side to side to get the stiffness out of his neck. "It's about time."

"Seriously--I thought I was going to have to start eating the seatback," Steve said.

"Look!" Danny pointed. "The cars are moving!" 

Steve turned the key and the engine flared to life, humming throatily as he inched forward. "Feels good to even move a few inches," Steve said. 

"I'll second that. And third, and fourth," Danny said, flicking the radio back on. "Maybe he'll tell us another lane is clear."

_I can't get no satisfaction, hey hey hey!_

Steve switched the radio off. 

"Hey!" Danny said. "I love that song."

Steve shot him a look as he brought the Camaro up to a steady 5 miles per hour. "Every time that song comes on we get into an argument about The Beatles and the Stones."

"No, every time that comes on you lose an argument about The Beatles and the Stones."

"Says who?"

"Me."

"You're not exactly an impartial judge."

"Oh, like you are?"

A loud crash ahead of them, followed by a sudden need to break, interrupted. They could see smoke up ahead, and cars had gone every direction. 

Danny's sigh was long and heartfelt.

"Look at it this way," Steve said. "At least the Camaro wasn't in the accident?"

"Small favors," Danny said.

"Better than none."

"Fair enough."

\---  
The End...?

**Author's Note:**

> Want to know more about my writing? Visit <http://www.jamiemeadowswrites.com>.


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